Snippet #2420975

He sighed and withdrew the paper upon Eckhart's nod. He never seemed to bother to read his reports, though in all fairness his hand writing was fairly atrocious. Perhaps he'd spent to long reading the scrawled letters of many a magical tome, and had subconsciously decided that was what writing was supposed to look like? On that note, did he still have a subconscious? He frowned and pondered the question momentarily. Technically, his brain was dead, kept alive only by magic, along with the rest of him. Did that mean that his mind was also kept alive by the magic? Perhaps this seeming lapse of actual brain function was responsible for his lost memories? It was definitely a possibility. Hastily he drew out a second black leather bound book, this one worn with age and dog eared. He dug into one of his pockets and drew out a quil and opened the book. He was all out of pages. He "tsk"d and gripped the corner of the back cover, as if to turn a page. Suddenly a blank page appeared between his fingers, on which he scawled "Brain is dead, so memories are also dead?" On the other page were things along the lines of, "Mind erased by creator" "Gammon's doing. Conspiracy" "Don't want to remember." The last one was underlined several times.

He snapped the book shut and returned his belongings to their respective pockets. Lot's of things could be said about Crow. Amongst them, along with being an incredibly talented sorcerer and being dead, was this. He had LOTS of pockets. Some of them even held objects much larger than should be possible, thanks to his spacial magic. Once that was done, he looked back to Eckhart. He looked... well, human. Perfectly normal human being, with human needs and such what not. Working for the most powerful source of evil to ever surface on the face of this planet. He had to confess, the man was a tactical genius, his overwhelming knowledge of warfare nearly matched Crow's knowledge of magic. Separately, the two of them were extremely powerful generals, but together, like their time fighting the coastal battles, they were nearly invincible. Eckhart's expert tactical knowledge combined with Crow's powerful magic, both destructive and spacial, meant that they could strike at an enemies weakest point as soon as it appeared, and maneuver troops in whatever manner was required.

He frowned slightly as Eckhart cast his gaze about the hall. Crow had very few emotions left, but he was concerned for the larger man's mind. His constant paranoia made him a minor liability, but it was well worth the trade off. He followed the man slightly away from their lords chambers and stood near one of many large braziers. He stood a little ways further than Eckhart from the fire. As powerful as he was, his skin was still quite fragile and burned shockingly easily, which is why he wore such thick clothes. Then Eckhart spoke, dropping what would be equivalent to, say, a Lord of Vermillion's Canon, easily the most powerful spell in terms of sheer destructive power he'd read about so far.
"Our Lord has given me the task of finding him a bride. Apparently, he is bored with his usual playmates and cannot content himself with reproducing by spreading forth his infected brood. I'm to hunt him down a wife who can bear him flesh and blood children."

Crow would've turned pale if it were possible, but he lacked the color to do so in the first place. "A.. Bride!? A wife for the Dark Lord and soon conqueror of the Kingdom of Light?!" He took a deep breath, though it really wasn't necessary since he didn't have a working pair of lungs, and leaned against the black wall. He thought quietly to himself for a few seconds. Well, in a way it made sense. What did most kings do when they conquered a country? They married one of the local nobles to help calm the people. Though in this case, he highly doubted that would happen. Likely, entire cities would take up torches and pitchforks, but to someone like Gammon, it only made it more... what was the word? Fun? Perhaps.

"There's plenty of room for trial and error but I get the feeling he'll delight as much in the search as in the acquisition of his goal. You're welcome to help, if you like. I could use a young man's opinion when it comes to... taste. Light knows the years have favored me with experience but I no longer have a palate for the youthful or the innocent."

Crow nearly choked, trying to hold back laughter. He couldn't contain it though, and burst out laughing. "Y-Young man? I'm thirty seven! Well, seventeen for twenty years." He tilted his head and frowned again. "Well technically I'm twenty, since I don't remember ever being alive." He scratched his chin, though he didn't know why. It wasn't itchy or anything. He'd never had an itch for these past twenty years since his nerve endings were dead too. Maybe a habit from carried on with his reanimated body? He pushed the thought aside. His not-life seemed to teem with technicalities. "As for taste... I've never really put much thought into the matter. I suppose I'll just have to go ask him." With that, he turned back to the dark lord's chambers and knocked as hard as he dared without breaking his hand. He disliked how fragile his undead body was. he'd have to see if Gammon had anything to help with that while he was talking with him.